Niceties of human conversation
by scribblingnellie
Summary: Molly Hooper has this effect on Sherlock Holmes everytime. And she knows it. She probably shouldn't make him squirm on purpose, but she just can't resist. Just a late night fic, following on from The Pathologist and the Detective. Fifth story in the Tentative series.


'Ah, there you are, at last.'

The confident tone was back in his voice, and sounding rather pleased with himself.

'Good morning to you too, Sherlock.' Molly stopped, eyed him and let the lab door close behind her.

She knew she shouldn't expect conversational pleasantries from Sherlock Homes, but once in a while would've been nice. Though at least when he was direct, she knew he was after something.

'Oh, yes... good morning Molly.'

'I guess there's no point asking how you got into my lab without me.'

'Nope. Though rather easily, actually.'

'Mmm.'

She waited. Sherlock waited. He tilted his head, his eyes flicking side to side; she could see his brain working out what he was supposed to do next.

'Um, you're looking well today, Molly.'

'I am well, thank you.' He was getting the hang of it. She smiled and settled herself down in the chair in front of her microscope. 'What did you want?'

'How did you know I wanted...?'

'You texted me, remember. Friday night.'

'Hmm, I did?'

Shaking her head, Molly began arranging her pile of paperwork for the morning. 'Yes, you did. After letting yourself into my flat. Next time Sherlock, if you must do something when you're there, wash the dishes. Do not organise my sock drawer. We talked about this, remember?'

'Did we? I do have a vague recollection of a conversation about personal space and things... or something like that. I was waiting for you to return home. I assumed you 'd be back about that time.'

'Then next time, wash the dishes.'

Hesitating, Sherlock bit back his reply. Watching him, Molly couldn't help the little tug her heart gave at his awkwardness.

'Ok, so sock drawers out of bounds. Sorry.'

'That's ok.'

'Right... good.' His tone changed. Obviously felt he'd done enough of the social niceties bit. 'Anyway, you didn't come back.'

'I'd already been and gone.'

'Yes, obviously. It's a bit confusing, you not being where I expected you to be. Oh... of course, you were at Lestrade's. Why were you there?'

'It's called having a life, Sherlock.' Molly could feel her annoyance level creeping up. Clever as he was, and with everything he'd been through with John of late, sometimes Sherlock was still rather slow when it came to other people. 'And I do have one, a life, outside of my job; I do exist for more than procuring body parts for you or testing your urine for drugs.'

She saw him hesitate before pulling a chair up next to hers.

'Sorry.' He picked up the empty petri dishes by the microscope, staking them neatly. 'I haven't touched drugs since then. Promise.'

'I know you haven't.' Reaching out, she covered his hand with hers. A gentle squeeze and Molly took her hand back.

'Are you keeping an eye on me?'

'We all are, Sherlock. Someone has to.'

'Right. Well, um, thank you...' His gaze shifted about the lab. 'So did you have a nice time?'

'Yes, we had a lovely time.'

'Dinner, was it? I thought he couldn't cook.'

'Dinner. And breakfast. Though we were too busy to have lunch.'

'Breakfast?'

'Yep.' Again, Molly watched him as his mind got to work on the information.

'Too busy for lunch?' He was getting there. 'So you stayed there, over the weekend? Are you two...?'

The realisation was dawning on him. His face was doing that thing - awkward and pained - where he was suddenly thinking that he may have strayed onto a topic that was out of his comfort zone. Molly almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

'Yes. Too busy enjoying ourselves in bed to have lunch.'

'Ok...' And he paused, not really knowing where to look.

It was probably a little mean, Molly thought to herself, making Sherlock squirm; he did set her and Greg up after all. Still, a smile caught itself at the corner of her mouth.

'So, what did you want?'

'Oh, yes, there was something I...'

'Sherlock! Just the man.'

And she'd never seen him looked so startled. As the lab door swung shut behind Greg, Sherlock tried to grab at the dishes he'd knocked over in his fluster.

'Ah, yes, hello Lestrade. Good to, um, see you. Molly was just telling me about your sex life... I mean, ah... your weekend.'

A soft laughed escaped as she tried to keep a straight face. Poor Sherlock. Winking at her, Greg made his way round the table towards her; Molly felt her heart stop and start just looking at him. Curling his arm around her waist, he softly placed his lips on her cheek. She leaned into him, feeling his warm chest against her arm. Bliss.

'Hey you.' A sexy whisper in her ear, and another kiss.

'Hi.' Molly reached up and stroked his cheek, unable to resist staring into those gorgeous brown eyes. She felt his fingers drawing circles on her back, giving her those goose bumps again.

'Yes, well.' Sherlock cleared his throat. 'Please don't let me disturb you. I'll just go and...'

'No, no, you're all right Sherlock.' Greg's arm squeezed her waist; Molly gave up concentrating on her paperwork. 'It's you I'm looking for. Got a case for you, rather unusual, right up your street.'

Moving in closer for one more soft kiss, his lips lingering on hers, he let his arm slip from her waist.

'A case. Excellent, wonderful. Well, let's go then.' Sherlock gathered himself together, almost skipping for the door. 'Molly, I'll be back for the thing... whatever the thing is that I wanted.'

'Text me, Sherlock. I'll see what I can do.'

And she watched the two men as they left the lab; Sherlock eager and in his element and Greg, the handsome policeman, all gorgeous brown eyes and sexy silver hair...

'Molly Hooper, get a grip.' She shook her head, admonishing herself out loud. 'You're a professional, intelligent woman; stop going all weak at the knees over a man.'

But she grinned as she started shuffling through her paperwork once again; Greg Lestrade wasn't just any man, was he.


End file.
